A Love Forsaken
Disclaimer: All characters, locations, mythical items etc. belong to David and Leigh Eddings, except those that did not appear in any of the Garion stories.
A/N: This chapter has been completely rewritten and resubmitted. It has absolutely nothing to do with the chapter that was here before, because that was quite possibly the worst lump of festering tripe that I have ever written. Hopefully this will be a little more readable.
Thank you so much for your reviews. You are all wonderful and amazing.
Chapter 3: Arrival at Dawn
As dawn appeared, fresh and rosy fingered1, she spread her glossy wings wide and lit up the plains of the Vale with her pale magnificence. The great tree, whose broad limbs stretched out over the vast plain, was lit up with her shining majesty and it seemed almost as though some kind of heavenly aura was growing about it. Already the birds were busy about their nests, fixing and tweaking, chirping all the while; completely oblivious to the power that lay in the very grain of the branches in which they had made their homes.
A few leagues away, four figures on horseback could be seen making their steady way to the top of a knoll that overlooked a small farmstead. Three of the riders were crowned with a mass of vivid red hair that sparked in the growing daylight and resembled a vibrant blaze of crimson flame. The fourth, however, sported a mane of sandy locks which cascaded freely down the back of his tunic. By looking closely at the faces of the four, it was immediately evident to any that they were brothers and sisters. It was clear by their bearing that they were no strangers to the saddle nor the hardened road, and yet still they radiated a sense of deportment and self-assurance that could only be associated with the nobility. They were all dressed in travelling attire of a sombre grey that starkly contrasted the girls' vibrant hair.
As they approached the top of the rise, the tall young man spurred his mount into a canter up to the crest, where he stopped and looked down on the cottage below. Crown Prince Geran of Riva had grown into a handsome young man of eighteen years and he now ruled the hearts of many dithering hopefuls back at the citadel. Now, as he gazed down on the quaint and welcoming little cluster of buildings, he smiled that disarming smile that sent most of the maids back home into a swoon.
He sighed, "It has been far too long." He turned back in his saddle to see his sisters come up behind him and he reached out to steady the mount of his second eldest sister.
He frowned slightly, "What's happened to Lupien(2), I thought he was with you?"
The princess Xephra tossed her fiery curls so that they caught the light and flashed like a score of glittering stars. She laughed airily, her silvery voice dancing merrily over the faint breath of the wind.
"You worry too much. Do you think that he could ever possibly lose us?"
Geran muttered his reply, "I'm sure he would be perfectly capable of it, if the stakes were high enough. Say, a fleeing rabbit?"
"If you're that worried, why don't you call him back?"
"You know he won't listen to me; only you can get him to do what you want him to."
"All right," the princess sighed, "if it makes you happy; I'll call him for you." Her face took on a glazed expression as she began to reach out with her mind. She did not have to search far until she found him and observed that her brother's predictions had been correct. She called to him gently with her mind and felt him answer, but with considerable reluctance. She returned to her body. She smiled at her brother and leant forward to whisper in her horse's ear. The animal stumbled forward a few more paces to the top of the hill and Xephra threw her head back to feel the warmth of the early sun on her face. A few seconds later she felt a faint nudge in her mind and she smiled as she sensed her companion returning. Geran looked to the foot of the hill to see a fluid black shape rippling towards them and he waited to greet it.
"Good hunting, friend? One was concerned by your extended absence."
The black figure reached the little group and sat back on his haunches, laying down the limp body of a rabbit from his jaws. The wolf replied to the young man in a similar series of yips and barks, "One apologises. One gave in to temptation for this shall be the last opportunity for one until one's journey home. One's mother has forbidden the stalking of any Vale creatures, so one saw fit to linger at the edge of the grassland and await one's chance." The beast licked his teeth and growled again, "the hunting was good. One wishes now that one had asked you to accompany one."
"Next time, perhaps; one looks forward to it." Unnatural though the dialect seemed for a human, the guttural sounds flowed easily from the young man's tongue and none of the group registered any surprise at this unusual form of address. The animal bared his teeth in a wolfish grin and took up the rabbit again, trotting forward to where Xephra sat astride her horse. No words passed between them in either language, but some form of communication took place between the two and the wolf gazed up at his mistress with a look of total devotion. Xephra smiled in the comfortable presence of her companion, and she started forward over the crest of the hill, Lupien loping easily at her side with the rabbit dangling flaccidly from his jowls.
The rest of the group followed, and after a mere five minutes ride they came to the small collection of buildings that was their destination. As they approached, a sturdy, muscled man who had been working on the fence looked up and saw them. Surprise turned into a wide grin and, straightening up, he put down his tools and strode towards them, arms open wide.
The youngest of the flame-haired princesses gave a cry of delight and slipped down from her horse. Slapping the reins into her brother's hand, she ran laughing towards the man.
"Uncle Durnik! Uncle Durnik!" She careered directly into his outstretched arms, all sense of propriety vanishing as she greeted her uncle. Durnik lifted the tiny girl easily and drew her into a warm embrace.
"Ce'Vanne, how are you?" He lowered the girl to the ground and looked down at her. Ce'Vanne was eight years old, but she had taken after her mother in that she was incredibly short for her age, barely coming up to Durnik's stomach. Indeed, she had needed a special horse prepared to carry her that she would be able to manage, yet one that would still be up to the long journey from Camaar to the Vale. Luckily, because of her father's worldly influence and his close relationships within the kingdom of Algaria, King Cho-Hettar(3) had made sure that she was suitably provided for.
Ce'Vanne's physical size, however, had not seemed to have affected any other aspect of her person. A constant stream of shrill chatter flowed unceasingly off her tongue, and she sounded for all the world like a flock of fussing pullets. "Uncle Durnik! Did you hear about Bel's birthday? Oh, it was fabulous! Father called in the world's best musicians and they played the whole night, and the dryads came, cousins Xella and Xeina as well, and they brought a message from the trees themselves and they all planted acorns from their trees around those intertwining ones that were planted when mother and father were married – we're getting quite an orchard there, now – and father did something clever with the sky, he made the clouds shape themselves to look like Beldaran – it was really beautiful! – and we had such a feast, you've never seen anything like it; there was partridge, chicken, pheasant, beef, lamb, mutton, turkey, pumpkin soup, rabbit stew, and…oh! The puddings! Cakes, tarts, pies, pastries, apple scrumpet, meringue pie ––" She paused to gulp some air, and the others burst out laughing at the serious expression on the girl's face, now crimson from the effort of remembering all those wonderful dishes.
Durnik seized the chance provided by the brief lull in the tide to move forward and help the other girls down from their steeds. Geran leapt down from his horse and, after half-lifting Xephra to the ground, shook Durnik's hand vigorously by way of greeting. Durnik clapped him soundly on the back.
"What took you?" The smith asked, "We were expecting you the day before yesterday."
"Yes, sorry about that," replied Geran. "There was this most awful storm; even Greldik was loath to ride it until it had died down a bit, so we had to wait a couple days. But apart from that, we've made good time."
"Well, it's good to see you, anyway. I trust the rest of the journey was sound?"
"Thoroughly uneventful, I'm pleased to say." Geran grinned.
Durnik now turned to the eldest of the girls. "Many happy tidings to you, 'mistress Beldaran'. It sounds like you had a wonderful birthday, and I express my deepest, most heartfelt regrets that we could not be there with you in your happy hour.
Beldaran beamed, "don't worry, uncle." She pulled a slight face, "to be honest, it was all a bit ostentatious. I would much rather just a quiet time with the family, but don't tell Father that! The bit with the clouds was quite remarkable, though." Her brow creased into a slight frown and she looked sideways at Durnik. "I say! Doth mine ears deceive me, or did mine good uncle show a dab of eloquence in the enunciation of his noble greeting?"
Durnik smirked, entirely uncharacteristic of the goodman's usual unassuming nature. "Pol's been teaching me the correct etiquette for communing in polite society. Now I'm the disciple of a god, I'm going to be having a lot more interaction with higher circles; people who might not be quite so forgiving as yourselves."
Beldaran shrieked with laughter, "Oh! That's just so adorable!"
"Dear me! You're sounding more and more like your mother every time I see you," came a voice from the doorway to the cottage. "Although I have to say, she does reach a very impressive top C sharp that is particularly ear-piercing. You haven't quite achieved that calibre yet, I'm pleased to say."
"Aunt Pol!" Ce'Vanne screeched, and leapt on her.
"And so are you, my dear. And do you realise how unladylike it is to jump on people in such an ungainly manner?" The tall, raven woman stood stern and imposing in the doorway, but there was a faint twinkle in those deep lavender eyes. Little Ce'Vanne only came up to her waist, and she had to crouch right down in order to kiss her. "Now go inside, dear, and find Beltirin, if you would. I can't think where he's got to."
Happily, the petite child skipped inside the cottage. Polgara turned to the rest of the group. "Well? Come on inside, then! Durnik and Geran, see to the horses, and then you can help the girls and I prepare some breakfast." Having delivered her crisp instructions, she whipped around and strode back into the house. Beldaran and Geran exchanged an amused glance before following their orders. Beldaran went over to Xephra and they made to enter the cottage.
From the moment that her feet had touched the ground after being lifted from her mount, Xephra had been loosely gripping the fur on the back of Lupien's neck. Now, as the wolf began to follow Beldaran inside, she let him lead her, trusting him implicitly.
Two years after her birth, Princess Xephra had been pronounced blind, much to the anguish of her family and the Rivan people. As she grew up, it became clear that she was permanently sightless, and so she would need something to help her live her life without constant care. The wolf that had returned with them after recovering Geran had become closely bonded with all the royal children, especially Xephra, and so, realising this, her parents had assigned Lupien to be her guide. This had not proven to be a problem for either party, as they were devoted to eachother and the princess' hereditary Dryad height meant that she did not have to bend to grasp his pelt. The wolf refused to leave her side unless he received permission from his mistress and so, regardless of her disability, Xephra still managed to live life to the full. The Rivan nation adored her for her valour in the face of everything life had thrown at her and she still attracted her own sizeable share of prospective suitors from all over the world.
With Lupien's gentle tugging to steer her, Xephra followed her sister into the cottage where they joined Aunt Pol in the kitchen. As soon as they entered, the whole interior seemed impossibly large for such a small house. The kitchen itself, though not as big as the one at Riva nor that at Faldor's farm, still allowed Polgara the freedom and space to do the thing that she loved best. The sorceress was bustling about and humming an ancient tune that had been lost over the ages. Although she was minding about twelve saucepans at once, seasoning and tasting, she still found the capacity to usher the girls upstairs to change out of their travelling clothes.
Obediently they trooped upstairs to one of the attic bedrooms, where they found two fresh dresses laid neatly out on the beds. They washed and changed quickly and made their way back downstairs where they found Geran and Durnik returning from the stable.
"And what do you think you are doing?" Polgara greeted the men, "Dripping mud and horse manure all over my clean floor! Go upstairs and have a bath; you too, Durnik."
With the men out of the way, the three women worked and chatted amiably together about this and that, laying out the breakfast things on the hefty oak table that was the pride of Polgara's kitchen. Soon, wonderful smells were rising from the bubbling pots on the stove, and they drew the newly scrubbed men back downstairs for their mouths to water and to have their wrists smartly slapped by Aunt Pol.
As they all assembled to eat the gargantuan cooked breakfast that the ladies had prepared, Ce'Vanne entered, looking dejected. "I can't find Beltirin anywhere, Aunt Pol. I've looked everywhere I can think of."
Polgara looked entirely unconcerned, "oh, he's probably in the creek again. Don't worry about it, dear."
Geran looked up. "The creek? Hasn't he grown out of that by now? I thought falling into the creek was a pastime reserved solely for little boys."
"You'll see," Aunt Pol replied mischievously, her eyes twinkling. "I'm sure Beltirin would much rather tell you himself. Why don't you go down and find him; after breakfast Ce'Vanne, dear." Her face falling, Ce'Vanne sank back into her seat. "He won't want any breakfast anyway," Aunt Pol said, "I expect he's catered for himself already."
Although he was still perplexed by Beltirin's absence and the baffling bits of information that Aunt Pol had deigned to impart, Geran chose not to pursue the subject as he knew that he would get nowhere if his aunt chose not to tell him. Instead he broached another matter. "And what about Polena?" he asked.
"She'll be in the Tree; she's been there for a few weeks now. Tell you what, after breakfast you can go and meet up with Beltirin and go and find Polena. You can make a day of it." Almost as an afterthought, she added, "you should probably drop in on your grandfather on the way; he'll want to see you all."
"But Aunt Pol," Ce'Vanne wailed, "we've only just arrived, and the horses are tired out, so we won't be able to ride them."
"She's right, Pol," said Durnik, "It'll take almost half a day to reach the Tree on foot, and they're all tired from the journey."
"Nonsense!" scoffed Polgara. "The horses did all the work in carrying them here. Besides, it'll do them good to stretch their legs after the ride; otherwise they'll spend the rest of their lives walking around bow-legged!"
The tone of her voice settled the matter and the siblings looked at eachother, disgruntled. Only the wolf seemed happy about it. Xephra caught his eager thought as he growled softly at her side.
"One needs a run."(4)
1) Sorry, I couldn't resist; I just had to slip a Homeric Epithet in there. I have to live up to my username anyway!
2) As those familiar with Latin will probably have realised, Lupien is derived from 'lupus', meaning 'wolf'. Interestingly, if you are a Harry Potter fan, the same is true of Lupin, the werewolf. Fitting, don't you think?
3) Sorry, but yes. Cho-Hag died a few years ago and left the throne to his adopted son, the Shar-dar, Hettar. He took up the prefix Cho-, which means 'chief of chiefs', to honour his father and his cultural heritage.
4) In case you're thinking that Lupien ought to be tired out from the long journey (he was on foot while the others were riding, after all), not so. Wolves are well known for their ability to run non-stop for hours on end; they are the ultimate endurance runners. Plus, Lupien has had a chance to rest.
I know this wasn't a very good cliff-hanger, but this chapter was getting far too long. I'm going to split it and write the rest as a separate chapter.
I hope that this attempt was considerably better than the last one, sorry for the delay in posting. Please R&R, I really appreciate it.